Wrong kind of Love
by Hasegawa
Summary: Summary: Harry was too deep in love with the wrong person, and he would do everything for him. Everything. Just for a second of appreciation, a second of mutual love. which, fate would never grant him of course. Warning: torture, angst, kind of incest. Rate: M for intense feeling.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Harry was too deep in love with the wrong person, and he would do everything for him. Everything. Just for a second of appreciation, a second of mutual love. which, fate would never grant him of course.

Warning: torture, angst, kind of incest.

Rate: M for intense feeling.

Disclaimer: HP is not mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry knew that if someone (suspiciously with greasy hair and black robes) performed legilimency at him now, they would curled in disgust and called him a freak amongst freaks.

He was too deep in love with a very wrong person to love; the boy loved his own Godfather, one Sirius Black.

Harry always found the reason to think about it—after all, he came from a very bleak background, knowing nothing of love when he was growing up, and so it gave him the reason to say he didn't know the difference between familial love and erotic love. Also, being offered love made Harry wanted to cry from happiness-and very eager to give anything in return to maintain the love he was given. He didn't care what type of love—as long as it was labelled love.

Thus; based on that logic, Harry couldn't differentiate the love he was giving to the other party—whether it was familial or spousal love.

Another reason was because, of course, Sirius Black, the suspected Azkaban escapee, was actually the only person who offered—offered!—Harry to life with him mere hours after meeting Harry. It was a novel thing, since when he was small; the Dursley had made sure that nobody in the neighbourhood liked Harry enough to question why he wore clothes three sizes different. It became so normal in Harry's experience that he was judged mere hours—or even minutes—of meeting someone new, usually courtesy to the negative comment his relatives made to the said new person.

The next reason was Sirius as a guardian was a very appealing offer—and intimate, if Harry could admit it loud. He never has a guardian in his life before, Harry was the most independent as a child could be, and now he was offered to have a guardian, who was not only handsome, but also immune to Harry's unavoidable fame. He was the epitome of independent, not by choice but by necessity, and someone offering to guard him, to support him, made Harry's needy 3 years old heart jumped in joy and delight, Harry felt his eyes wet for a second.

Sirius also flirty by nature—Harry had managed to manipulate his ex-DADA werewolf teacher to tell him everything about supposedly his father (and by default, including Sirius) in their Hogwarts Years. What he heard made him very relieved—Sirius was a born playboy (And if Remus ever suspected why Harry paid more attention t Sirius' history rather than James', Harry never cared). He couldn't settle for one person, always moving from one to the next. And it was perfect, for Harry. He didn't need devotion. He has all the devotion in the world enough for both of them. He just needed the chance for Sirius to actually see him in that kind of light.

And last but most importantly, Harry knew Sirius was bi. He could do it with both genders. So Sirius was perfect.

* * *

So Harry spent his third year summer holiday in daydreaming about his Godfather. Miraculously, that prevented him from feeling any verbal and physical abuse The Dursley gave him those time—he didn't care. Harry had someone to love.

He only needed to make Sirius love him back, even just for a second.

Harry wasn't sure how much letter could he send to Sirius per week, so he settled for twice per week. He so wanted to write ten times a day, but frankly Hedwig would be very tired and it would be very detrimental to Sirius' hiding situation.

So he settled for twice a week, filling the parchment from end to end.

He told Sirius about all that good about him—he told Sirius how Remus was proud of Harry because Harry mastered patronus in a year; he told Sirius how Hagrid was happy with Harry because Harry helped him find Noert the baby dragon a home; he told Sirius how happy Ron was being Harry's friend, because Harry was loyal and friendly and everything Gryffindor. He told Sirius about how proud Hermione was of Harry because Harry actually managed to stay in the top fifteen of their year. Harry tried his best to write the best out him, and conveniently forgetting the rest of him—the small him, who always afraid of Uncle Vernon; the child Harry who hated but helpless against his cousin's bully; the desperate Harry who was afraid that magic wouldn't accept him and he would have no friend in Hogwarts.

And in the end of every letter, Harry wrote in very small, tiny letter, a foot note, saying:

_When can I live with you? _

It was bittersweet, but it made Harry very happy. After all, hope wasn't something he usually could indulge in.

* * *

It started from then, and when Harry finally met Sirius again in the rocks hills behind Hogsmeade, Harry couldn't leave Padfoot alone. He couldn't leave the thin, frail looking man. Harry could protect Sirius if Sirius would allow him. Harry would give everything, anything, to stay with Padfoot and kept the animagus well. He didn't quite listen what they were saying, Sirius and Ron and Hermione, something about Kakaroff as an ex-death eater; all he thought about was how could they did it to Harry—They were talking and hoarding Sirius' attention to themselves, while Sirius was actually Harry's Godfather!

When it was time for them to return to Hogwarts, Harry told them he wanted to stay with Sirius a bit longer, and so the two third of the Gryffindor trio left without him. He then sat beside Sirius and watched as his Godfather laughed and enjoyed the food they gave him. They talked about the letters, Harry's current situation, and Sirius' encouragement. The boy was in heaven, enjoying the sole attention from Sirius. Harry so wanted to discuss about everything under the sun with Sirius, because everything seemed interesting while watching Sirius laughed.

And when the time came for Harry to return, Harry didn't want to go; and he held onto that feeling as he latched himself to the man he loved, ignoring the smell and the roughness of Sirius' body; all he needed was just more time to be together, to sit beside his only person who would love him.

* * *

When Harry panicked about how he would pass through the dragon, Sirius' face on the fireplace was something that gave him a tremendous strength to actually succeed and be number one, to actually prove the crowd that Harry Potter was the boy who could do everything, so he could be lovable and worthy enough of Sirius Black's attention and love.

He managed to pass through the dragon, and he was glad when he was said to be the first! He couldn't believe it, he actually did it! Everything was good, and Harry looked forward to meet Sirius again the next week. But Hermione and Ron forbid him to go, because they said Harry could jeopardize Sirius' hiding place with too many visit.

Harry settled with letter, giving details blow by blow of why passing through dragons should make one be proud of Harry Potter and found the boy worthy of love.

* * *

When Harry ended up in the cemetery (he managed to safe Cedric from being avada'ed mere second before the curse came by forcing Cedric to touch the cup again), he watched from his tied position as the traitor whom called Peter Pettigrew made the Voldemort potion.

He watched as his blood was given, unwillingly, into the pot.

He listened and didn't give any indication of any emotion when Voldemort said out loud his monologue as the evil Dark Lord. Harry didn't care. All he wanted to make sure was that Voldemort, whom he indirectly had helped to give rise back, wouldn't jeopardize the safety of Sirius Black.

So before the duel started, Harry threw his wand away , hands up in the air, signalling he surrendered. He was mocked by everyone, and mostly by Voldemort himself. Harry didn't care. He made a deal with Voldemort. He would kill himself or do whatever Voldemort wanted, as long as his most important person would not get hurt.

Voldemort was intrigued, and so he rewarded Harry with personal audience. He casted silencing bubble around them; and stood there, waiting for Harry to say who the name was.

"I want a wizard oath." Harry said, confidently. It was fortunate that they learned it just mere weeks before the final task. "I need your word on your magic, Voldemort."

"Alright, I will grant you this, for you are my only true enemy." The snake man hissed and gave Harry his wand. He called upon Nott to help them bond, and Harry spoke the name of his most loved person in the world.

"Swore by your magic you would never harm Sirius Black, directly or indirectly."

When the oath was finished, Harry let himself be tortured by crucios for hours. Days. As long as Voldemort wanted. He didn't care. He had to protect Sirius from harm. And he was doing the best he could.

* * *

When they finally found him, Harry was not in human shaped anymore.

It took the St Mungos weeks to finally recover Harry's skin into a normal human hue—from black, blue, green and purple-ish. It took them a month to make sure his kidney and liver wouldn't suddenly shut down. It took them two weeks to make sure Harry's limbs were still functioning, and it took them the whole time to make sure Harry retained his face as a human.

Harry refused to look at mirror; he knew how hideous he was. He was ready to die, and now he was still alive but alive with disfigured body. He wasn't sure whether Sirius' natural playboyness would accept a disfigured invalid on the bed. it was rather scary, and for days he tried to make sure that Sirius couldn't see him.

Apparently (Hermione and Ron cried while explaining it to him) that Cedric quickly returned and told Dumbledore, who opened the portkey again. They were only an hour late; it was because they needed to catch Crouch Junior before he ran away. Harry could find fault in it—he always could. Dumbledore should activated the portkey straightaway and Voldemort wouldn't have time to torture him, or even return; but no. for Dumbledore it was always the Greater Good first. But Harry was not angry. He knew that he was expendable for the rest of the world. He was nothing but an unwanted orphan anyway.

When he finally saw Sirius, he couldn't hide his tears. Everybody thought it was because of the pain, but no. They didn't know Harry. They didn't understand Harry Potter. Harry was crying because of fear and embarrassment. Would his current disfigurement enough for Sirius' vanity standard? What if it didn't? Harry wouldn't be able to face the world if Sirius rejected him.

But it seemed Sirius was happy he was alive. In Sirius' hug, Harry thrived and started to sob from relief. Good Merlin, Sirius still able to accept him. Although Harry was a useless, almost dead, disfigured boy of fifteen, Sirius still wanted him. it brought smile to his face as he sobbed, relief and relief and happy.

* * *

Three days have passed, and Harry started to want to know how bad he looked like at the moment. They kept a mirror beside the bed; but Harry never tried to touch it. He was still undeniably in pain whenever he moved his used-to-be-severed arms around.

Sirius entered the room, hand in hand with Remus. Harry didn't notice the second person before they finally took a seat beside his bed, and their hands linked through and through.

"Harry," Remus started. "We have been thinking, Sirius and I. We want you to come to our place and lived with us."

Harry slowly stared at both of them, but he was most interested about the current situation of hand holding between the two grown men.

"Why are you… holding hands?"

Both of them flushed, and finally Sirius spoke out. "I hope you don't mind us, Harry. We … We love each other."

Harry's frozen face made Remus quickly added, "But if you are uncomfortable with homosexual relationship, we can break up…"

Harry didn't care about it. All he cared was his chance has gone. His love, his thriving hope, his love, was crumbling in front of him.

"Since when?" Harry managed to raspy ask.

"..Since the Hogwarts year, but we just became together a week before… the Final task." Remus flushed, looking insecure with Harry's cold reception.

The boy didn't know what to say, or what to do. He unconsciously tilted his head.

"Can you two hold the mirror in front of me? I want to see my face now."

Both of them looked at each other, and they gave Harry his wish. Harry closed his eyes and opened, greeted by an alien face he would never admit was his.

His nose was the only thing that quite resembled a human. His eyelids were uneven, his eyebrows marred by sliced scars, his cheek hollowed and discoloured, clearly he had been granted a skin graft transplant. His lips were horribly swollen and ugly and his chin were gone—it was not there, as if somebody cut it off an left the face without the angle people has as chin.

"Is… Is this why?" Harry tried his best to reason. "Is this why you won't choose me?"

"Harry?"

"Is this … ugly me, the reason why you won't love me?" Harry turned to Sirius. "Is this why you don't choose me as your lover? Is this the reason why I can't be yours?"

"Ha..Harry, what are you talking about?"

"I love you, Sirius. I love you so much it hurts. I did everything for you. I honestly did." Tears started to drop on Harry's chin—and the boy saw how horrible it was looking now, when he saw his image on the wall. Even he couldn't cry like a normal person. He looked like a monster now. "I have been in love with you ever since the third year summer. I have been trying. I will be good, I am always, but I will be better. So can't you love me? Can't you choose me?"

"Harry, please." Sirius' eyes started to wet, "Please don't cry. Please explain to me. What do you mean?"

"Didn't you tell me you want to live with me? Didn't you say you will be my family? Be mine? Didn't you say that you are proud of me? Why won't you choose me then? I have tried so hard! I have tried my best! I even let Voldemort torture me for you! Why do you choose him? Why? WHY!?"

"Harry, we never know…" Sirius answered back. "Were you… were you tortured because of me?"

"Is it not enough, Sirius? What should I do then? I will do it! Give me time to recover, then I will do it! I am sure I can do everything for you. So choose me. Please." Harry sobbed and he painfully tried to touch Sirius' hand. "Please…"

When their skin touched, Sirius unconsciously moved back.

The soft gesture was enough for Harry to show that Sirius didn't love him back. It was futile. Everything he did was futile. Sirius didn't love him. Sirius didn't choose him. His love was futile. It was one sided love. Sirius never did love him. What went wrong? What?

What?

Everything crumbled around Harry. His fate was too cruel. Nobody loves him. no matter what he did, nobody would love him. People whom he loved would never love him back.

It was futile. Futile. Futile.

Harry Potter was the idiot of the millennia.

"GET OUT." Harry screamed. "GET OUT!"

When finally the two men left, Harry immersed in the loneliness of the room and the silence. He was in pain, broken and empty. What should he do now?

* * *

Comment?


	2. Chapter 2

I want to continue this story so badly. Although this story does not have warm reception, I still love this one, ehe.

Unbetaed, so prepare yourself for a hard ride.

Enjoy!

* * *

Remus Lupin sighed as he closed the curtain. Today was July 31st.

Harry's birthday.

Without even looking, Remus knew that Sirius has entered the room. Sirius's body scent alone was enough to recognize his lover. And he recognised the mood too. Sirius was depressed. Just like every day for the past 2 years.

Ever since Harry confessed his feeling that fateful day—which was something out of a nightmare, especially for Sirius who was really oblivious to Harry's intense feelings for him and ended up shrinking back from the boy, _just because_—Sirius and Remus both held a big burden and guilt between the two of them. Simply because they had shattered the hope, life and wish of their own godson, who apparently ready to sacrifice everything for the love he pinned on Sirius. Remus couldn't questioned the sincerity of Harry's feeling, because it was clear there—Harry really, and clearly has made the Dark Lord swore an unbreakable oath to spare Sirius no matter what. The price was Harry's identity as a human. Even after two weeks of magical healings and twelve specialist mediwizards and ten healers later, Harry looked like a broken animated corpse stitched back into live.

They had left Harry on his own—which was their next mistake. That night, Albus Drumbledore, the bloody old coot (now Remus felt no remorse to degrade the old man—although he used to worship the ground Dumbledore walked on), came in and ordered the boy to basically 'suck it and do his job'. Remus only heard it second hand from some of the mediwitches who was on duty that night, but apparently the racket was too great to be ignored.

The mediwitches said that Dumbledore told Harry that the world needs him—he required Harry to get a grip together. He said that Mad-Eye Moody has agreed to train him, and once again, Harry needs to face Voldemort. Harry didn't say anything, refusing to react to the string of excuses and orders Dumbledore said, until one heated point, where the already-very-annoyed-and-not-so-patient-anymore Dumbledore finally shouted, _"You must listen to me, ignorant boy! This is not a matter of your stupid teenage love, this is the matter of many lives! Don't be a useless burden!" _

It was then whole St. Mungo suddenly cracked—the spell of light turned off; the windows of the third floor where the room was suddenly shattered into pieces, and every wizard and witches inside St. Mungo felt a sudden jolt of sting.

And the next moment, Harry James Potter disappeared from his bed. The next second, blood splattered to the whole room, covering the inhabitant with it.

It was the last time anyone had ever seen Harry. Nobody could find him. Merlin knows how desperate Dumbledore has become, ordering the Order and aurors (although this cause a new rift between him and Rufus Scrimgeour who was angry with the blatant disrespect from the old coot) to find Harry. But they couldn't even find any news about him. Many suspected Harry died; but Remus hoped from the deepest part of his heart that Harry still live, somewhere in the middle of muggle world. He knew the wish was rather futile—for the St Mungo's anti-apparating ward was as good as the ministry's. so if Harry did apparate himself, then he must have splinched with the amount of blood splattered around the room. Remus heard Albus' face was covered with red, dark blood.

When Remus and Sirius returned the next day and heard about the news, they were so livid and angry towards Dumbledore. All their pain was turned into hatred to the old man, and since then they refused to join the Orders anymore. Instead, Remus accepted Sirius' invitation to live secludedly together in Grimmauld's Place. However, even though they lived together, they couldn't bear to look at each other, even if only to seek comfort. They couldn't even bear to look. Their relationship never quite returned to the way it used to be. Remus refused to be touched for at least half a year, and Sirius couldn't bring himself to touch for longer. Both of them knew but couldn't even comprehend the other's guilt. But after the year passed, and Harry didn't return, they slowly returned to the more supportive and comfortable roles of lovers. However, they always evade Harry discussion before bed time, because it always brought them nightmare of Harry, begging in tears, desperately yearning for a chance to be loved. Even reminiscing about it hurt Remus' whole body.

"…It's his birthday today." Sirius suddenly spoke.

Remus nodded. He felt as Sirius stood a breath away behind him but he didn't touch Remus at all. Remus understood. He didn't want to be touched either on that particular day.

"I bought him a new broom. The new Firebolt 2. I sent it by owl last week."

"…Oh." Remus smiled. He knew the old Harry would be very happy for the brom. When he taught Harry in his third year, he saw how Harry was as brilliant flyer as his dad. James… what would he say if he was still alive, to find that his own son were tortured until almost crazy and was manipulated into war piece by the old coot. Remus couldn't believe how Dumbledore still desperately coaxed Sirius and him to return to the Order—apparently there was a problem recently with the increasing number of Death Eater raids. There was a new cloaked silver masked figure who had been single handedly killing most of the aurors and Order members. Just last week, they lost Arthur Weasley and Hestia Jones. It was a hard blow to Dumbledore's Order since Mad eye moody and Molly Weasley had died a year ago, the first time that silver masked Death Eater appeared in raid. However, Remus found himself without care to the problem.

"…But the owl came back. It cannot find the recipient."

Remus closed his eyes. Yes, the owls they sent always returned with the mail unopened. Packaged undelivered. Everything has failed.

"Do you… do you believe he is still alive?"

Remus couldn't answer the question. He wanted to believe it from his heart, but he couldn't. The evidences showed little possibility of Harry still alive.

"I don't know, Padfoot. I don't know."

* * *

Empty.

Everything was empty.

Harry waved his hand and clenched his fist. The huge stone in front of him suddenly levitated and burst into thousands of small rocks. Each of it flew towards the surrounding, effectively diverted the attention of his enemies. When their attention was diverted on shielding themselves from the rock rain, Harry grabbed his partner's neck and apparated.

When he appeared again in the Manor, his partner roughly shook his hand.

"What the hell, Potter? Give me a warning before you side apparate me!"

"They will notice." Harry answered in monotone, slowly walking away towards his private room in the manor.

His partner, the blond slender man hissed. "I can apparate by myself as well!"

"It's easier."

"We haven't even finished fighting them!"

"We are."

"Potter!"

Harry ignored the spoiled blond and entered his room. It was a room given to him by Lucius Malfoy, ever since Voldemort found it right to allow Harry enters his rank of Death Eaters.

When he disapparated that night to run away from demanding Dumbledore, Harry found himself between life and death. When he found himself awake, he was in a very bright room. The room felt so pure, as if nothing had ever touched it before. And then he noticed there was a small baby beside him, lying and crying.

Harry woke up and found that his body has returned to the normal state—he could feel his chin and his hands were looking nice and unblemished. Long gone the crocked fingers and everything—he was looking like a human again.

Then Harry realized that the baby was still crying, so he cradled the baby into his arms. The baby was so light, weightless, and immediately stopped crying when Harry hugged him. And then the baby cooed cutely, melting Harry's chest.

It was then Harry woke up again, and this time he was in a dark, expensive and old looking room, with many antiques furniture. He was spread on the thick green carpet. When he tried to move, Harry could feel the ongoing pain he associated with his mutilated body.

:_It's impossible: _Harry heard someone hissed, and turned to find Voldemort was sitting on the chair beside him. _:You…: _

It was like a super shock. Like out of the frying pan and into the fire. Harry knew his accidental magic helped him to run from Dumbledore, but now there he was, ready and defenceless in front of his nemesis. This time, Harry knew he couldn't depend on the accidental magic anymore.

And to be honest, Harry didn't want to run anymore. He preferred dying instead of running. Afterall, he has nothing to look forward to.

:_You are my Hocrux.: _

Harry closed his eyes. Voldemort was still mumbling in Parseltongue about something he didn't understand. He readied himself. Any time soon, Voldemort would snap back into coherency and started torturing him.

_:Potter.: _

Harry refused to talk. Let him think he had died or passed out or something. He didn't want to think anymore. His body and mind were ready—he could stand whatever torture they had for him next. Despite his trembling hand, Harry knew he was ready to die. Alas, Harry was very wrong this time. He was totally unprepared to the explanation that happened next.

Apparently he was somekind of precious thing for Voldemort—and suddenly Voldemort viewed Harry's safety as a must. He ordered Lucius to spare a room for Harry, ordered one of the Healers to heal Hary using any mean possible (it seemed that St Mungo hadn't done everything for Harry. The Ministry's imposed restriction of dark healing rituals has hampered the effectiveness of healing treatment in St. Mungo. Voldemort's private healer, on the other hand, has no such healing methods restriction.

In a month, Harry regained his nervous system function back—although the sacrifice was also heavy. It appears that for a person to regain his lost nerve function, it must be done in expense of another man's health. And the ritual would be very painful for both human sacrifice and the patient. It was not a problem for Voldemort, though. They had kidnapped Penelope Weasley who was conveniently walking alone by the Hogsmeade little road and used her as the human sacrifice, hence Harry's recovery. His body was then treated with various potions and herbs, soon Harry found himself regained his muscle control and human shape.

Furthermore, Voldemort has given Harry a silver mask; crafted just for him, to hide Harry's hideous scarred face. Voldemort has offered another ritual and human sacrifice to return Harry's face, but the boy refused the offer. He was content hiding behind the mask. He didn't want to show the world his face anymore.

The whole thing was done in secrecy; Voldemort really took into Harry's safety. He blocked Harry's magical signature and contained the boy in the left wing of Malfoy Manor while he was being healed. Only the Voldemort, the private healer and the Malfoy family knew about Harry. Not even his other Inner circle Death Eaters knew about it.

Half a year later, the silver masked death eater became active in the war. He single handedly killed ten aurors and two Order of Phoenix members in his first raid. Nobody knew who he was, for the silver masked death eater also killed three lower Death Eaters who stood in his way, trying to challenge his authority. Apparently since the silver masked Death Eater never came to Death Eater meeting, they thought he was a spy who fake into being a Death Eater (after all, one only need a mask to pretend as a Death Eater).

The handful of aurors who managed to survive continued to tremble when they retold the story, about how powerful the wizard behind the silver mask was. But the scariest of all was the scene of the cold blooded Death Eater standing on top of lifeless bodies as if it was nothing. His eyes, seen through the silver mask, showed no feelings whatsoever.

And it was how Harry continued his life for the next year and a half. Paired with Draco Malfoy in most of his assignments, he always did what he was ordered and returned to the manor to stay in his room. Harry found it acceptable, although he knew he was living under Voldemort's—the man who tortured and made him broken in the first place—pity. After all, he didn't find living interesting anymore. But he was happy that so far he has not yet to meet Black or Lupin in Death Eater raids he joined.

Harry didn't know what he will do if he met them.

Voldemort has told him about how he was his Hocrux—a shattered piece of Voldemort's soul—and Harry's death means Voldemort's death as well. Not directly, since Voldemort has some other Hocruxes, but still, it was not desirable. Furthermore, since Harry has sworn an oath back in the graveyard where he was tortured in exchange of Sirius Black's safety, Harry found himself unable to retaliate or harm Voldemort in any shape, including killing himself. Thus, Harry maintained his day to day life joining the raid and killing everyone around him.

His magic underwent many fluctuations—some days he was as powerful as Merlin himself, and some other Harry couldn't even opened his eyelids in the morning. Most days Harry could even do wandless magic. Yet sometimes his heart stopped beating for twenty second, and when it happened he always woke up with Voldemort or his partner, Draco Malfoy, hovering above his head.

Harry lived his day as if it was his last; and he was content with it. His mind was empty, his feelings locked inside his head and he would talk only to Draco or the Dark Lord. In his self imposed solitude, he found the feeling of safety where nobody could hurt him anymore. Nobody needed him, so he needed nobody as well.

Well, it used to be like that. However, the spoiled Malfoy heir found it his duty to annoy Harry. So when Harry closed the door and chucked his bloody and dirty robes away, Draco entered without knocking and then sneered.

"You stink, Potter."

Harry ignored him as usual, opening his pants to show his naked body. It was nothing to show, really. His skin were full of scars, and although he was fit, the scars were hideous in their own right and made Harry looked like a canvas filled with abstract and ugly looking doodles. Harry ahs given up any vanity he might have as a human and forgo his manner as well. After all, nobody needs him to be a perfect wizard; Voldemort only needs him as a hit wizard.

"Maybe you find your body beautiful but being an exhibitionist does not suit you."

"Who cares?" Harry asked indifferently as he walked towards the bathroom. Maybe he did stink.

"I am still in this room, Potter! Merlin forbids you to wear a pant until you reach the privacy of your own bathroom? Geez, how uncouth you are, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"You cannot order me, Potter! We are partner, and if you keep disregarding me like what happened just now, we won't be able to work effectively!"

"You can ask your Lord to change your partner."

"Bloody hell I can! He made me swore an oath to accept you as my partner and never tell anyone else! I couldn't even tell my own Godfather about you! Severus has been very suspicious about you, but I can't even tell him!"

"Good. He is a spy for the old man." Harry rubbed himself using the soap. Malfoy Manor was equipped with the best things imaginable, and soap was no exception. It was one of the little things Harry had learned to let himself enjoy after he was properly healed.

"Po…Hareeee!"

The nagging has turned into a childish rant. Harry sighed. Everytime they had raid together, Malfoy found it right to invite himself to nag about Harry's apparent disinterest in everything. Malfoy even found it alright to use Harry's name, albeit Hareeee and Harry sounded a bit different. He heard the bathroom door opened and Malfoy's steps coming in. harry has no objections with people disregarding his privacy. He secretly wished a hit wizard came and kill him in his sleep. He wouldn't fight for it, to be honest.

"What?" Harry washed the soap with water. But Malfoy didn't answer, so Harry turned to see the blond blushing. Harry raised his eyebrows. "Get out, Malfoy. I am taking a bath. You have your own bathroom."

"…Bloody hell, Potter!" Malfoy scowled, but his red face told a different story. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't find himself to care. He heard his room door banged closed and dried himself with the towel provided. He then filled the sink with water, before staring at the mask on his hand. Everything has changed. He never thought he would work under Voldemort. He never knew he would hate Dumbledore. He never knew he would live with Malfoy. All he knew he was desperately trying to gain the love of one man.

_Sirus. _

Harry dipped his head into the water on the sink. He didn't want to think about anything anymore.

He had enough.

He was tired.

He wanted everything to stop.

_Sirius._

* * *

Review please! XD


	3. Chapter 3

Months without update. I am preparing Missing in the middle and The death wish. I am sorry for the lateness. To be frank I dont even know why I still update. My gosh.

What do you want to do with your life?

Enjoy.

* * *

_Sirius_.

Harry opened his eyes to find his cheek wet and his eyes dry. He blinked a few times before realizing that once more, he had woken up from a nightmare. Almost every dream was nightmare, if Harry wanted to be honest with himself. Because almost every dream he had now included him, Sirius and a beautiful house beside the forest where everything was peaceful and Sirius would always be with him and Sirius _loved_ him.

The tears weren't foreign. It has always marked the nights when Harry dreamt his nightmare. It was always bittersweet and painful when he found himself waking up with wet cheek because he knew, just the last few seconds before he was forced to face the reality of his worthless life, the happy Harry in the dream were calling Sirius so that he wouldn't be awaken.

He had settled to the fact that he was born not to be loved. So he indulged himself in those nightmares when the Harry in his dreams were loved by people—his parents were alive in some, in others the Dursley actually cared and treated him like their own son Duddley, and in every ingle on of them, he had Sirius beside him, whispering '_I love you, Harry, only you_'. And yet, he knowingly branded those dreams as nightmares, because otherwise, his real life was a never ending nightmare.

"Potter, are you alright?"

Harry almost showed his surprise from being caught unguarded, but the gap between his mind and his body control he had been cultivated ever since he became Voldermort's hit wizard saved him from jumping off his skin. He turned to see that Draco Malfoy was standing beside his bed.

"Malfoy."

It was strange that the blond man was there, but Harry didn't blame him. His door was without lock anyway, because Voldemort wanted to make sure that Harry didn;t get any privacy that enable him to run away. Not like he needed it, Harry mussed. He never had privacy. The only private thing he had was his emotion to Sirius. Which was why it hurt him so much.

"…Nevermind." The blond sighed and walked towards the door. "Our Lord asks you to come to breakfast when you are ready."

Harry nodded and let himself rise from the bed, but his body refused. Instead, he felt his limbs started to shake and unbearable pain started to whisk his composure. He let out a strangled voice, and his body started having seizures.

Time passed too quickly—the pain was playing with his head—Harry couldn't think clearly—pain has become somekind of baseline feelings—and suddenly there was no pain at all—and the voices were calling onto him—and Harry found himself floating in a cloud.

He opened his eyes to find he was on his side, mouth gagged by a cloth to make sure he didn't bit off his tongue in his usual seizure attack and his cheek full of drools. His body were still stiff and uncomfortable, but now he could think like normal.

"Potter, can you hear me?"

Harry nodded quickly, trying to calm his heart down. He started to regain his body control, and slowly he raised his arm to loosen up the gag he had on his mouth.

"Can you walk?"

Harry slowly rose, using his upper body strength, before slowly climbed back onto his shaky legs. His personal healer was squatting down beside him—Harry realized he was laying on top the carpeted floor of Malfoy Manor. His healer took his right arm and together with another person on his left—Harry caught the smell of Draco's hair product, so maybe it was Draco—he wasn't sure everything was still spinning—Harry finally put onto his bed back.

"How is he?"

Without even opening his eyes, Harry knew the voice must be Voldemort's. it was always like that, he found himself awake from his seizure/heart attacks to find his healer and Voldemort beside his bed, the later one asking the other whether Harry would be fit to carry out the duty for today.

"I am sorry, my Lord, but I think Harry may not be able to control his body for at least half a day. This seizure is shorter than usual, but with the recent frequency of his seizures and attacks, I recommend another full body check."

Harry wished he didn't hear that. It was like listening to his sentence: _His body is no longer useful. Just a little more time before his body stopped functioning. Just a little more time before Harry is really worthless. _But he couldn't die, not with Voldemort living, because the Dark Lord wouldn't let anything kill him, now that Harry was one of his 'Hocrux'es—anchors to this world.

Harry opened his eyes. "I can. Just give me a second."

"What can you do, Potter?" an annoying voice but with underlying tone of concern asked him. Harry noticed that it was Draco's annoying screeches. "You can't even walk properly!"

"I can do whatever you want me to do today." Harry ignored the annoying voice, knowing full well that Voldemort didn't care about his health as much as the safety of his own soul inside Harry. "I will be ready in a minute."

"Draco is right, Harry Potter." Voldemort hissed, almost in parseltounge. Harry turned to him, the noseless monster who wasn't his enemy, but his protector now. "You should stay and rest—regain your energy."

Harry sighed. "Can I have my mask back?" he felt naked without those. He always put it on whenever he woke up, but this morning's seizure left him no time to put on the mask.

"I don't recommend you wearing that today, Mr. Potter." His healer pushed a vial of special concoction made for Harry due to his unique condition—it was some sort of pepper up laced with many addictive drugs that gives instant energy—something to boost Harry's frazzled nerve. "The mask cut off some of your respiration, and since you are having nerve over stimulation, lacking air is not recommended."

One would think the reverse, but Harry couldn't be bothered to response. So he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sudden jolt of energy that came through his stomach—the shot of drugs and pepper up was very, very welcome.

"Once he regains his control, you have my permission to have full body check on him." Voldemort calmly ordered before walked away. The healer did the same, but Harry still felt a person staying in his room.

"… Why are you staying, Draco?"

The person flinched.

"Ju..Just making sure that my partner is not dead. The Dark Lord will be very pissed with me if you are. Just so you know."

How true it was. Voldemort paired Harry with Malfoy to make sure Harry didn't 'accidentally' killed himself. And Harry, as much as he was a walking corpse, was still a Gryffindor. Deep down, loyalty was what defined Harry as what he was. The loyalty which sickeningly rendered him to the desperate love to Sirius. The loyalty which now prevented him from doing whatever he wanted because Harry knew that if something happened to him, his life was not the only one who would end.

"…why did you call him?" Draco continued, in whisper. "Do you think he would come and snatch you away from the Dark Lord?"

"Who?" Harry raised his eyebrows. The potion was really strong. He felt like he was going to explode soon from the tension between his muscles. His blood was pumping hard. The rush, it was coming, it climbed up in high speed, and it would end at one point where everything would crash down and Harry would lost his consciousness until the next time he woke crying because he wanted to stay with the Sirius in his dream.

"Sirius Black."

* * *

Sirius still didn't like to step into the Diagon Alley in daylight. People still watched him with distrust despite his cleaned reputation. The brand of being a Death Eater was still imprinted deep inside people that the truth was forgotten.

But he was there with a small mission. He needed to restock his potions especially for Remus, who just had his transformation two days before. Pepper up, pain relief, and wolfsbane are some of the potions he needed. He could order them through post-owl, but it was better to personally come to the apothecary and made sure that his order was made properly. Furthermore, Remus kept urging him to get out from the house, to search for fresh air.

Looking around, Sirius saw the Quidditch shop. He smiled sadly, wondering if only he still had Harry by his side, he would indulge the boy with so many things from the shop. He would even buy the shop for Harry, his precious Godson. But the joy of enjoying Quidditch disappeared with time, as they still couldn't find Harry. Funny how he could be uncomfortable with Quidditch, something he used to be obsessed with back then, when all his worry was about whether he would be caught on his latest pranks with the other Marauders. James, Remus, Sirius… and Peter.

Sirius grimaced and spitted on the road when he remembered the traitorous rat, bitter on how the rat still could hurt him even after his well-deserved death (apparently Peter has lost his usefulness for Voldemort once the Dark Lord gained his body back. Not long after Harry's disappearance, they found Peter's head—just head and no body—sent in a nice package in front of the Grimmauld Place number twelve).

He walked towards the apothecary, just when suddenly a dark cloaked man came in front of him and grabbed his wrist. Sirius was surprised and took out his wand in reflex, but then he started to recognize the man in front of him.

"Black, I need to talk to you about something." The man with platinum blond hair under the cloak and grey eyes whispered. "Please. This is about Potter."

Sirius stopped breathing for a second before he nodded softly. The cloaked figure moved graciously towards the small dead-end alley behind the apothecary, and Sirius, despite knowing that must be a trap, followed Draco. He just needed to have something, any information about his Godson. He really missed Harry, and he really hoped that his precious Harry was alive.

"What do you want, Malfoy? I warn you, if you are tricking me, I won't surrender easily."

"…We are still cousins, you know." Malfoy hissed. "Black won't hurt another Black. But this is not the problem at the moment. I just need you to listen."

"…I am listening."

"Do you… Do you care about Potter?"

Sirius' eyes clouded with anger. "Why you are asking me that?"

"Because he really needs you and he is dying." Malfoy looked away. "And I don't like watching him dying like this."

"You know where he is!?"

"He is under the watchful eyes of the Dark Lord's." Malfoy whispered. "The Dark Lord won't let Potter go, especially since Potter has become so valuable in his eyes. But Potter is dying and didn't care that he is dying. Watching Potter waking up everyday is like watching a pathetic excuse of a life. I want to know whether you can safe him. Take him off from all this war. He wouldn't last long. Not in this rate."

"Harry is dying… where is he!?" Sirius growled and snatched Malfoy's hand. The blond shook his head.

"I can't tell you, it's under fidelius. But I can tell you when the next time he will be out on public, and I want you to get him by that chance. There is only one chance for us to get him out of The Dark Lord's protection. I am betting my own life here, so I expect you to be serious too."

Sirius eyed the blond man distrustfully. But somehow he could sense that Malfoy was really serious. And so he nodded.

"I need you to swear a vow against telling Albus Dumbledore."

"I won't even tell the old coot." Sirius scowled, thinking how irritating the old man has been ever since they lost Harry. "He is one of the main reasons why Harry disappeared. But are you sure you know where Harry is? I have been searching for him, and I still don't have any trail of him…"

"It's because he was in catatonic and healing state until quite recently." Malfoy sneered. "You should be proud of yourself, Black. The light side proclaimed that they are the good people, but look what you have done to your own saviour. Harry was not even human anymore when the Dark Lord got him. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Sirius blushed. Because he couldn't retort any of that. Yes, Harry was hurt because of him. Yes, Dumbledore, the so called leader of the Light was no better than Voldemort. And Sirius was wholly to blame for Harry's current predicament, because as Harry's godfather he was the one who should be protecting Harry, and not the other way around. So Sirius was as guilty, or even guiltier than the rest of them.

The last Black fortune heir nodded his head. He took his wand and Malfoy followed his stature. They pronounced their vow to each other, and their magick binding both of them. Malfoy pulled down his wand in satisfaction.

"Anyway, Potter will be going with me to our next raid… so I will owl you when." Malfoy whispered. "…Please make sure you don't fail him, Black. He needs you more than he needs anybody else right now."

Black nodded. Before Malfoy apparated away, Sirius swore he could see Draco Malfoy's wet cheek.

* * *

TBC. I wish the next is the last chapter. lets see.


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